


Death Comes After the Fall

by AKAQueenAnnie



Category: Serpent & Dove Series - Shelby Mahurin
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fear, Hate, Hollow - Freeform, Love, Weakness, obvi since it’s Lou, some cussing, talk of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAQueenAnnie/pseuds/AKAQueenAnnie
Summary: Just a few suns ago, she felt safe in his arms.Now, when he holds her, she waits for the drop.
Relationships: Louise le Blanc/Reid Diggory
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Death Comes After the Fall

He came for her. He saved her life.

She doesn’t know how that happened. She doesn’t know a lot of things now.

Coco, Ansel, Madame La Belle, Beaux, and him. They all came for her. She is alive even after her mother slit her throat. After her husband killed her father. She is alive with a new scar across her neck. She escaped death for the second time. Luck has always been her friend, but she does not feel relief now. She doesn’t know what she feels but she feels...wrong. 

Was that really just a few hours ago? How? Why? Are they real? 

So many questions. So many things. So many. Too much.

Their bodies surround a weak fire as they sleep. They found a small clearing on the way to Coco’s coven and they decided to stop once they were all more tired than afraid. She assumes it’s been an even longer day for all the rest of them than it was for her. After the whole escaping fiasco, each of them was forced to take turns carrying her. After days of not eating and not even getting up from bed, she knows she is nothing far from a bag of sticks. Still, carrying another person while traveling is probably not as fun as it sounds. And she supposes she’s tired too, enough to fall asleep two or so hours ago like the rest of them, but she can’t. The past few days have been just her lying on the bed, trying not to fall asleep and failing. When sleep came she always had dreams. She hasn’t had dreams for a really long time until then and she doesn’t exactly know why it started happening. All she knows it that she doesn’t like them. Because the bad ones bring her pain and terror, and when she wakes up, the good ones bring her the same. It is much too possible that she is afraid of sleeping and waking up, shackled to her old bed frames and without Coco or Reid or Ansel or anyone else at all by her side.

So she doesn’t sleep and stares at the fire instead. She is glad that the one who is taking watch is Ansel. Her and Madame La Belle aren’t taking shifts because they were hurt the most. Beaux would probably annoy her to no ends she would wish she was dead. Coco would try to talk to her and be too worried for her health to actually understand why she can’t fucking sleep. And Reid. She does not know why she doesn’t want Reid to be awake right now. All she knows is that she is thankful for Ansel. Sure, his worried glances every few minutes nag at her. Sure, he’s tried to get her to sleep. But Ansel, sweet and pure Ansel, understood soon enough why she can’t do anything else beside stare at the fire in front of her. Just like how he acted the first time he saw her dying. There is much to think about anyway, so he lets her think. She does not deserve Ansel. Or Coco. Or Madame La Belle and Beaux. Or the fact that Reid is holding her tight against his chest during his light sleep.

_You used me._

And she could not deny it because she did. And she does not deserve all of them and their rescue. 

She does not deserve to feel like this when she is supposed to feel happy and safe to be back with Reid again. Her husband. Her family. Her home. 

But she can’t get the word he said our of her mind. 

_You are not my wife._

So, she can’t sleep. She can’t feel safe. She can barely breathe. She does not know how everything changed in a matter of days, and she hates it. She hates that it changed. She hates that she is nothing but a burden. She hates that she has caused everyone in their merry little group pain. She hates that she caused the rest of the Dame Mages and even the Chasseurs death. She hates that she doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them. She hates being handed off to the next person, or being spoon fed, or having to be held on so fucking tight. She hates feeling weak. She hates that she is. She hates that she can’t fucking sleep in the arms of the fucking love of her life. She hates that she feels afraid. 

Before the rescue, she felt numb. She still hurt and cried and bled. But they were distant. She mostly felt empty. She accepted her fate, finally, and faced her fear of Death. But now, it is as if everything she should have felt came rushing down on her at once. And there are so many things. Too much. 

And out of all those fears and hatred, one is as big and towering as the man that gave it life. A truth so obvious that she tries her best to hide it. A broken vow as broken as her heart. 

_You are not my wife.You are not my wife.  
You are not my wife. _

Words that were sharper than any blade her husband held. So sharp that she can’t still feel herself bleeding. A hatred proving stronger than love. 

The truth that as much as she resents herself for all she’s done, she resents the person holding her as well. Because how could he say that he loves her when the same mouth told her she is not his no longer. How could she believe his kiss when the same lips casted her out? How can she trust the man she loves when that person broke his promises. 

_I won’t let her hurt you again, Lou. I’ll protect you. Everything will be all right.  
I love you, Lou. _

Then, always back to: 

_You are not my wife._

Bitterly, she thinks, who’s the liar now? 

Reid shifts in his sleep, and impossibly so, she stiffens more. How can it be that just a few suns ago, she felt safe and protected and happy in his arms? How is that now, whenever he holds her, she waits for the drop? When he holds her, she looks over her shoulder, afraid. She waits for the fall to come. The hurt and pain. 

No matter how many times she tells herself that it is alright. That actions speak louder than words. That he is here now, holding her. And that’s all that matters. Try as she might, she cannot believe those either. 

She is afraid of her husband. Herself. Her mother. She hates the world for its irony. Because once she was afraid of death, now, she is afraid of living. She is afraid of its uncertainties and how now vows or promises or magic can ever tell her what the future holds. Or if she is still in it. Or, even worse, she is in it alone. 

She is afraid that, like all of the dreams she had in her room, this is another. And that she’ll wake up tied and powerless all over again. 

She is afraid that none of this is real and she did die with a second slit throat. She is afraid that maybe this is real and they die on the way to Coco’s coven, or slaughtered by thieves, or her mother catches up with them and kills them all. Mostly, she is afraid of getting to live past this, and have her husband leave her again for no other reason besides of who she is. She is afraid of looking in his eyes and seeing such disgust and betrayal. She is afraid he won’t love her as he did before. Or if he ever truly did. Death, surely, is the much kinder fate. 

She hates, and is afraid, and doesn’t know anything. And those are what mostly makes her feel so small. 

Reid nuzzles his nose in her hair and mumbles something she can’t hear. She shifts her head to see his face. His face is slightly troubled, brows drawn together. She moves to be more comfortable, and his arms wrap around her tighter. She stiffens again before she sees that his brows relaxed. His lips are parted and his face calm and serene and painfully handsome. 

_Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from you._

As she stares as the fire gently illuminates his face and finally let her body rule over her restless mind, she settles on knowing one thing. She loves this man. She loves him despite how much she resents what happened in their past. She loves him despite not knowing what will happen after. 

_Where you go, I will go._

She loves him and will continue to love him no matter how frightened she feels. She will gladly go through horrors and pain just to feel his embrace or his knives. She will marry him again and again just to hear his vows or his lies. She will die over and over just to feel his kiss. And she will live, if for nothing in the world, just to feel his love or his hate. 

_Where you stay, I will stay._

She will be brave again and will gladly jump and fall and fall and fall in love with him, no matter what comes after. She closes her eyes and knows that, out of all the lies and pain and death, love stayed and grew and triumphs and will continue to as long as she is with him and him with her. 


End file.
